


Bent

by jstabe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 21:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: “My name is James Buchanan Barnes.”He felt Clint’s lips curl up where they were resting at his temple. “Yes.”“I am an Avenger.” Which was frankly ridiculous and impossible to believe sometimes, but it was true so it went on the list.





	Bent

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Matchbox Twenty song of the same name. I was listening to it when the idea for this struck, and it seemed to fit a Bucky recovering fic. 
> 
> Pre-read, but not beta read so feel free to point out any mistakes.
> 
> The past rape is non-graphic, barely mentioned, and is not between Bucky and Clint.

Mission debriefs these days were nothing like they were when Bucky had been part of HYDRA. No one wanted a status report on his arm; they wanted to know how _he_ was. No hosing down, no Chair, no cryo. Bucky suspected these debriefs were nothing like the ones S.H.I.E.L.D. had held either. He hadn’t spent much time with Fury or Maria Hill but he didn’t imagine they’d have spent an entire hour listening to Tony and Steve snipe and flirt while Clint shot Nerf arrows at the ceiling. 

Being an Avenger was weird.

Bucky shook off the thought, metal fingers curling into a loose fist as his eyes scanned sight lines and exits. Hypervigillance his therapist called it. He’d spent his first six months at the Tower in a constant state of it, but it was getting more and more rare. It was stupid to be feeling it now. The mission had been surprisingly easy with few injuries on their part. Still, he couldn’t shake it, and he knew that the more he tried, the harder it would grab hold. Better to hunker down and wait it out.

Movement to his left jerked his attention back to the occupants of the room. Clint had put the ‘bow’ down and those sharp eyes were watching him. That was familiar. The archer watching him was one of the first things Bucky had ever been aware of when Steve had brought him to the Tower to live. At first, coolly assessing, vigilant in a way Bucky recognized, and then later with a heat that he didn’t, not at first. He wasn’t stupid, knew what that kind of look meant, but no one had looked at him like that in over seventy years. It took some getting used to.

Bucky didn’t bother to look away. He couldn’t hide anything from Clint, never had been able to. A brow arched and Bucky gave one sharp shake of his head. No one batted an eye when Bucky left briefings early, but Clint would stay to the bitter end. It was a habit from his S.H.I.E.L.D. days that he couldn’t seem to break unless Bucky needed him to. Today, he wanted a few minutes reprieve before he’d have to talk about what was in his head. 

Pushing away from the table, he smiled a little when Steve immediately quit snarking with Stark to shoot him an understanding grin. He clapped Steve on the shoulder and left them to it. He wanted a shower and some time to gather his thoughts before Clint joined him.

* * *

Technically, he still had a room on Steve’s floor of the Tower, but he preferred being at Clint’s. A month or so after they’d started sleeping together, a heated mattress pad appeared on Clint’s bed (despite the serum that seemed to make Steve run hot, Bucky tended to run cold), along with a mound of blankets. The bed had been warm and smelled of Clint and Bucky had slept better than he’d had in months. Now the bed smelled like them, and that was even better. He showered and dressed in a Henley and a pair of sleep pants, clicked on the mattress pad so it could warm up. He moved to stand at the window, arms wrapped around his middle in a futile attempt at comfort and warmth.

It wasn’t long before he heard the elevator doors open, and a smile curved his lips. Clint had clearly sped up the debrief. He turned his head to look at Clint, watching as Clint took in the bed and Bucky’s current attire. 

“Post mission nap time?”

Bucky nodded and turned back to the window, still mostly in his own head. He heard movement behind him and then footsteps as Clint headed for the bathroom and his own shower. When he emerged twenty minutes later, Bucky had turned down the bed and moved to perch on the end of it. He watched as Clint dropped his towel and pulled on his own sleep pants and a sleeveless T. He preferred to sleep naked, but would take his cues from Bucky, and that was just one of the things that had made Bucky fall for him so damn fast that he was still reeling. 

Clint moved to the bed, paused long enough to kiss Bucky’s temple before he shoved some pillows up against the headboard and settled down. He parted his thighs and Bucky moved quickly, lying between them and leaning back against Clint’s chest. Clint pulled the covers up over them and wrapped his arms around Bucky. Bucky made a soft sound and let his eyes close. This was one of his favorite positions to talk to Clint in. He was warm and safe, surrounded by Clint, but he didn’t have to make eye contact unless he wanted to.

Clint’s nose brushed his temple, making Bucky smile. “What’s wrong, babe? We had a good mission. No major injuries. Hell, I’m not sporting so much as a BAND-AID.”

Bucky snorted. “Good thing for you. I saw Natasha stock the first aid kit with Paw Patrol.”

“Dogs are awesome, Buck. I’d wear the hell out of those BAND-AIDS.”

He would too because he was ridiculous. The ice gathering in the pit of Bucky’s stomach started to thaw, and he relaxed a little more against Clint. 

“Did you get a look at the lab in that place?”

They’d hit a HYDRA base, which was becoming the Avengers norm. Steve wouldn’t even consider the thought of revitalizing S.H.I.E.L.D. until they’d done their best to hit every last HYDRA base that was even semi-operational. This particular base had been mostly deserted except for the lab.

“Little bit. I leave that stuff to Stark. He knows what’s important.”

Bucky made a quiet noise of assent. “HYDRA labs are all pretty much the same. This one didn’t have a Chair, but… there was an old cryo tank in the back.”

“Shit. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Was fine.” Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t operational, and cryo wasn’t the worst thing they did to me.” Clint’s arms tightened around him, and Bucky tipped his head enough to kiss Clint’s jaw. “Didn’t recognize any of the techs, but…”

But he had recognized the way they’d looked at him. Some odd mix of fear and apathy. The former because he was off the leash and unpredictable. The latter because to them he wasn’t human.

“They’re all the same, you know? I don’t remember everything, but I remember the way they always looked at me. The docs and the techs were the worst. They never cared if what they did hurt because to them I couldn’t _be_ hurt. Weapons don’t feel pain.”

“You’re not a weapon, Buck.”

“I was.”

Out of everything he had to learn to come to terms with, that part somehow was the hardest. He had spent so long thinking of himself as HYDRA’s Asset, their Weapon, that he didn’t always feel human. If he were a person, surely someone in over seventy years would have tried to help him. Someone would have seen and stopped what was happening. No one ever had so maybe Pierce was right. He existed simply for HYDRA’s use.

He took a shuddering breath, and felt Clint kiss the top of his head. Those little gestures meant more to him than Clint would ever know. 

“You were a weapon because they forced you to be one. But you were always human. You were always more than they made you to be. That’s why you’re here now. You’re so damn strong, Bucky.”

He didn’t feel strong, most days. Or brave. Or any of the other things Clint and Steve constantly told him he was. What he was at his core was stubborn and he refused to let HYDRA have any more pieces of him.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

He felt Clint’s lips curl up where they were resting at his temple. “Yes.”

“I am an Avenger.” Which was frankly ridiculous and impossible to believe sometimes, but it was true so it went on the list.

“I am friends with Bruce Banner.”

“And the Other Guy. He’s pretty fond of you.”

“Well, yeah. He likes anyone who can smash walls with him.”

Clint laughed, and Bucky felt his whole body loosen even more.

“I am Natasha Romanov’s favorite sparring partner.”

“Hey now. Let’s not get crazy.”

Bucky grinned. “Don’t hate. She stills loves you best in most situations.”

Clint grumbled, fingers finding Bucky’s ribs and digging in for a poke. Bucky squirmed away, and Clint subsided, letting Bucky gather himself to finish.

“I’m Tony Stark’s favorite project.”

“Buck.”

He shook his head at the thread of worry in Clint’s voice. “No, that’s not bad. Maybe I phrased it wrong, but…” He held up his left arm. “He loves to tinker. Loves to make things for the people he cares about. He called contacts in Wakanda to help make an arm that wasn’t HYDRA’s. His lab is always open to me. He… cares. About me.”

Clint hugged him tightly. “Yes, he does. And you phrased it just fine.”

Bucky snuggled closer to Clint, letting his left arm stay outside the blankets so he could tangle his fingers with Clint’s. The last two were always the hardest because they were the most important.

“Steve Rogers is my best friend. My brother. My family.”

That was a truth he knew down to his core, even in the beginning when he hadn’t been sure of anything else. 

“Then there’s you. Clint Barton. My lover, my partner, my other half.”

He smiled at the little hitch in Clint’s breathing. He knew Clint loved hearing him say things like that even as they embarrassed the hell out of him.

“Assets, Weapons, they don’t have names,” Bucky continued. “They don’t have jobs or friends. They don’t have family.” He turned to face Clint. “They don’t have you.”

Clint smiled and reached out to cup Bucky’s face gently in his hands. “But you do.”

“I do. I have all of those things now.”

“Yeah. Fuck HYDRA.” Clint’s smile turned to a scowl. “I kinda wish I’d shot that guy some more now that I know how much seeing him bugged you.”

“Such a romantic,” Bucky teased. 

He leaned in to kiss Clint then turned back to resume his slump against Clint’s chest. He was calmer now, though a little of the disconnected feeling remained. Clint would help, he knew. 

“Clint? I need…”

“I know.”

Bucky closed his eyes. It scared him sometimes to be known like that. To be seen the way that Clint saw him. Mostly he was just grateful.

Calloused fingers slid along his arms, down over his forearms, to rub over the backs of his hands. Bucky opened his eyes to watch.

“You always feel so good under my hands.” Clint tapped the back of his hand and Bucky turned both of them palms up. Fingertips traced over his palms; the sensation muted on the left, but still more than he’d ever had from the arm HYDRA had forced on him. “I love touching you.”

Bucky made a little humming sound, head tipped back to rest against Clint’s shoulder. He watched Clint’s hands as they roamed his body, touching here and there with no rhyme or reason that Bucky could follow. Clint touched him everywhere, because he could. Because they both enjoyed it.

Bucky let his eyes close again, let Clint touch him however he liked. Not long ago, he’d never have been able to be still like this. He wasn’t allowed to keep many memories of his time as Pierce’s Weapon, but he had enough to know that his body had been used to do more than kill. Pierce had liked his compliance, had relished in taking HYDRA’s killing machine and bending it to his will. Sex with Pierce hadn’t been about pleasure. It had been about obedience, and Bucky had been trained to be still and accept it. To be quiet and take whatever Pierce wanted to do to him. 

He opened his eyes, gave his head a little shake. Memories like that had no place here in Clint’s bed. In their bed.

“You with me?”

Bucky nodded, took one of Clint’s wrists in his hand and guided it between his thighs. Clint cupped him through his sleep pants before letting his fingers trace the rigid line of Bucky’s cock.

“Oh yeah. You’re paying attention.”

Bucky stifled a laugh. He parted his thighs wider, invited Clint to touch more. Clint obliged, sliding his hands along Bucky’s thighs, teasing over his cock, sliding up higher to rub over his belly before starting over again in a random path. Bucky was hard and leaving a damp patch on the fabric of his pajamas when Clint reached for the hem of his Henley.

“Can I take this off?”

“Please,” Bucky moaned.

He helped Clint take off the shirt, and then pushed at the waistband of his pants, wanting to be naked for Clint. Clint groaned and together they divested Bucky of the last of his clothes. Clint nuzzled his cheek. 

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Bucky couldn’t help but preen under the attention. Being naked in front of someone wasn’t new to him, but the appreciation was. Clint touched him like he was precious, always had.

“Clint, I want…” His breathing hitched when Clint wrapped tight fingers around his cock and began to stroke him.

“You can have anything you want, babe.”

Clint kissed behind Bucky’s ear, and Bucky could hear the raggedness in Clint’s breathing. God, it was hot, how much Clint enjoyed bringing Bucky pleasure.

“I want to come. I want…” Bucky cried out when Clint’s thumb teased at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. “Finger me open and jerk me off until I come. Please, Clint.”

“Jesus Christ.” The rhythm of Clint’s hand on his cock faltered. “Yeah, yeah okay. Let me grab the lube.”

Bucky grumbled, but sat up enough to let Clint twist to the side and fish the bottle of lube from the bedside table drawer. Clint moved back against the pillows, and Bucky resumed his sprawl. He spread his thighs, resting his feet outside Clint’s calves and leaving himself open.

“Fucking hell.” 

Clint squirmed behind him; he was still clothed, but Bucky could feel the heat of his cock through Clint’s pajama pants. Despite his obvious arousal, he’d made no move to do more than Bucky had asked for, and Bucky felt a wave of affection rush through him. He took the bottle of lube, flicked open the cap and coated Clint’s fingers. 

“You’re so good to me.”

He covered Clint’s mouth with his before his lover could say anything, guided Clint’s hands between his legs. He moaned into Clint’s mouth when a calloused fingertip teased over his hole before pushing in. He broke the kiss, panting against Clint’s mouth as Clint slowly slid inside him.

“God, Buck.”

Clint sounded as wrecked as Bucky felt. He kissed Clint again before moving to rest fully against Clint’s chest again. He rolled his hips, covered Clint’s hand with his and urged another finger to his hole. “More, Clint, give me more.”

Clint dropped his chin to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky knew he was watching. He tilted his hips, letting Clint push deeper inside of him as Clint started to stroke his cock again. It felt so damn good, and then Clint’s fingers stroked over his prostate, and Bucky actually whimpered. His breathing came in harsh pants as he rolled his hips, working down onto Clint’s fingers and then up to push his cock through the tight fist Clint had made for him.

“Close. Clint, I’m…”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I’ve got you.”

Bucky let himself get lost in the sensations then, his focus narrowing down to the stretch of Clint’s fingers in his ass, and the grip on his cock. He fumbled for the bottle of lube, dripped some onto his cock, and let out a whimper at the newly slick slide the next time he rocked into Clint’s fist. 

“That’s it, babe. You’re beautiful like this.” Clint kissed behind his ear, and Bucky shivered in pleasure. “Come for me, Buck. Let me see you.”

It didn’t take much after that, a few practiced flicks of Clint’s thumb over the head of his cock as the fingers in his ass rode the sweet spot that made him see stars. He came with a shout of Clint’s name, shivering with pleasure under Clint’s hands.

Clint worked him through the aftershocks, hands gentling as Bucky started to come down. He made a disgruntled sound when Clint eased his fingers free of his ass, ignored the little laugh it got him. He turned onto his side as Clint slipped out from under him to rummage around in the nightstand again, searching for the wet wipes they kept there. He let Clint clean them up, tugged Clint to cuddle up with him as soon Clint had tossed the used wipes toward the trash can in the corner with unerring aim. 

“That’d be hotter if you hadn’t just used those to clean up come.”

Clint snorted. “I never miss. No chance of mess.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, started to wiggle closer to Clint before he realized that Clint was still dressed. He tugged at the hem of Clint’s shirt. “Can these come off? I want to feel you.”

“Of course.”

Bucky had known the answer; Clint was only waiting for him. He smiled and helped Clint get naked then tucked himself in close to all that warm skin. He laid with his head under Clint’s chin, their legs tangled in a careless sprawl. Bucky hummed his pleasure when Clint began tracing the line of his spine with gentle fingertips. He was starting to drift off when a thought had him shooting up to look at Clint.

“Shit, I didn’t…” He slipped a hand between them, frowning when he found Clint mostly soft. He glanced up to find Clint staring at him, a sheepish expression on his face. “Wait. Did you…”

“Don’t judge me!” Clint grumbled. “Watching you like that? You’re really fucking hot. Came in my freaking pants like a teenager.”

Bucky beamed at him as he bent down to kiss Clint. “Not judging, but I am a little pissed I didn’t get to see you come.”

“Eh, play your cards right and you can see it after a nap.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he resumed his earlier position sprawled over Clint. “Play my cards right. Like I don’t just have to ask.”

“So, I’m easy when it comes to you. Sue me.”

“I like you easy.”

Clint laughed, hand coming to rest low on Bucky’s back and keep him close. “Go to sleep, babe. You can tell me more about how much you like me over pizza and beer.”

Bucky squeezed him, grinning against Clint’s chest when the other man let out a little squeak. “It’s a date.”

He closed his eyes and let himself drift off, surrounded by Clint.


End file.
